Cheese and Chocolate
by chrnoskitty
Summary: Au. Switzerland x Belgium. A new choclatier has opened up shop on the same street as Vash's cheese shop. What's worse, the fact that she's Belgian, or that she's stealing all his customers?


**Cheese And Chocolate**

Pairing: Switzerland x Belgium

Rating: PG

Cheese Factor: Low

Will I like it?: It's simple conversation. So, maybe?

Vash didn't have a problem with the new choclatier who had just moved in down the street, her shop already garnering more business in the short time it had been open, than his cheese shop had the last three months combined. No, he didn't have a problem with that. Of course not. His fingers definitely weren't itching for the gun he kept beneath the counter, every time Lillian and one of her friends would enter the shop, bearing a gift of some freshly made, Belgian-style, (It couldn't be Belgian, as it was made in Switzerland, but, the choclatier had brought her techniques over from her home country, and that was what she advertised it as) chocolates, always making sure to save some of the confection for himself.

No, that wasn't what bothered Vash. What bothered the Swiss man was that, well, they were good. And from there, he simply couldn't hate the simple woman whose shop was three times smaller than his own, just a closet really with a counter in the front, and her apparatuses for making chocolate in an equally as small back room. Not when what she was doing was so... well, it was admirable.

It didn't stop him from, some days, wanting nothing more than to walk down to her shop, and cause a scene in the storefront, blaming her for his current loss of business, and possibly even inciting some form of riot. His hand twitched for his gun again, merely at the thought of it. He didn't want her dead, this nameless store owner. He simply wanted her gone. Out of his rustic business district; She could stay in Switzerland, that was perfectly fine with the rash man, she just couldn't stay in this part of it.

Actually, no. Scratch that, Vash mused, as he flipped the sign on his shop's door, effectively marking it as 'closed' in the coming twilight, only to notice an unfamiliar, headband-adorned blonde, making her way over to him. Mockingly, in the gleam of the gas streetlight, he could see the logo on her apron, above her right breast, denoting her as the one and only proprietor of 'Alice's Belgian-Style Chocolate Shop'. The title was a bit of a mouthful, and Vash had already overheard his sister and her friends referring to the place simply as 'Alice's', always, of course, in hushed tones and sneaking glances his way, worried that he might decide their conversation irritable and shoot at them.

Honestly. Girls were so odd; that had only happened once, and they stillfeared him for it!

"Hello," The Belgian woman said, when she was finally near enough to him to not be shouting, and sound polite in her words. Vash ignored her, instead, polishing imaginary glasses in the hem of his own apron. This didn't deter the woman, however, as she took a step closer to him, so that they were both receiving the benefits of the warm glow of the lamp, crickets humming in the background alongside a symphony of other nightly sounds.

"You're Mister Zwingli, right?" She continued, smiling brightly, despite the scowl she was receiving. "Your sister comes into my shop a lot. She's hanging around practically every day!" Like he didn't already know that, from the prettily pastel boxes Lillian brought home, basically on a daily basis. "She's really sweet, you know." Of course he knew, he lived[ with her, for chrissake.

Vash had been silent the entire time, building up an arsenal of simple responses; 'get away from me' 'go back to Belgium' and 'I don't really care, leave me alone', when the Begian said something that absolutely pulled at the very heart of his nature.

"I give her a discount whenever her and her friends come in."

A discount really? That meant that, they saved money. And, saving money was, really really great. "Thank you," He grunted, not looking up at her. He was still determined to hate her. Stealing his patronage, usurping his business with her confections...

"Don't mention it!" She replied quickly, smiling that same smile. "Actually... there is something you could do. I've finally moved all my things from storage into my house -- I was living in a hotel for the past month -- and, well, I was wondering if you and your sister would want to come to a house-warming party?"

"Why?" The word was out before he could stop it. He really didn'twant to go.

"Well... you're the only ones I know around here?" She tried. "And, I make rather delicious waffles? They're large and filling enough to be their own meal!"

"I have goats."

"What?"

"Three of them. They need to be fed, too."

"Can they eat waffles?"

"They ate Lillian's homework and were fine."

She smiled again. "Then I'll just make enough for them, too!"

"When?"

"Tomorrow night?"

"I'll tell Lil."

"Thank you. And... have a good night."

"...You, too."

And they went their separate ways, each heading to their respective homes, to wait for what the morrow would bring.


End file.
